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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525158">can't stop it all from changing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandratb/pseuds/deandratb'>deandratb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Day at a Time (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>4.02, Deleted Scenes, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:48:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandratb/pseuds/deandratb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The unseen conversation that convinced Penelope to go furniture shopping with Schneider. Includes 4.02 spoilers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Penelope Alvarez &amp; Schneider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>can't stop it all from changing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just really needed Penelope to apologize for making fun of Schneider so hard in this episode. After the way S3 ended between them, it felt uncalled for and I miss their S3 levels of intense sincerity.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b><em>What was that? You okay?</em></b> </p>
<p>Penelope got the text while she was still on the floor, so she knew Schneider heard the couch collapse. The fact that he texted instead of running downstairs immediately was unlike him.</p>
<p><b><em>I’m fine,</em></b> she sent back, dusting herself off. </p>
<p>“I expected better from you, though,” Penelope told her couch once she was standing and could stare down at it with disappointment. </p>
<p>What was she going to do now? </p>
<p><em><b>What happened?  </b></em>Schneider asked, when no more information was forthcoming. <b><em>I’ll be there in a sec.</em></b></p>
<p><b><em>No, you don’t have to do that! </em></b>She sent back, knowing it was already too late. <em>Damn it. </em>After the argument they’d had earlier, he was definitely not gonna shut up about the couch now. </p>
<p>She was lucky her <em>Mami</em> wasn’t here, Penelope thought. She couldn’t handle the prayers and the loud Spanish laments or the two of them ganging up on her. She would figure this out. </p>
<p>What if she shoved some really sturdy boxes into the gap? And filled them with something heavy so they could hold the middle up?</p>
<p><em>No, that was dumb, Penelope. Who wanted to sit on a couch made of bricks?</em> </p>
<p>Maybe Schneider could reinforce the center of the couch with wooden boards and then it would be like it hadn’t broken in the first place. <em>That would be better. </em></p>
<p>Schneider let himself in as she was nodding along with that thought. </p>
<p>“Oh. My. God.” She watched as her best friend--<em>how was he almost as dramatic as her mom?</em>--crossed himself in the face of her disastrous furniture.</p>
<p>He still wasn’t any better at that. But it almost made her smile, which was nice.</p>
<p>“Penelope. What on earth did you <b>do</b> to it?”</p>
<p>“Nothing! I sat down. It just happened.”</p>
<p>“Well, that settles it, then,” Schneider declared. “Your couch is dead. May it rest in peace.”</p>
<p>She turned away from him to look back at the collapsed mess in the center of her living room. “You’re sure you couldn’t...fix it? With tools?”</p>
<p>“Not even Jesus could fix this couch, Pen. And he built miracles <b>and</b> furniture. It’s time to replace it. But don’t worry--you don’t have to go through this alone. You have me.”</p>
<p>She grabbed hold of the first excuse that came to mind. “Aren’t you busy moving Avery into your place? And speaking of Avery, shouldn’t it be your girlfriend you go furniture shopping with?” </p>
<p>"Avery isn’t the one who needs furniture, Penelope. She’s still sorting through her house. The hard part is figuring out what to combine at my place and what to put into a multilevel storage unit.”</p>
<p>“Besides, this is important.” He grinned. “Important family business. If I don’t help you, there’s no way you’ll unclench long enough to actually bring a couch home.”</p>
<p>“Your lack of faith in me is starting to get annoying,” she shot back. </p>
<p>“I have enormous faith in you!” he argued. “But I also know your weaknesses. Clearly, this is one of them.”</p>
<p>Arms crossed, she stared him down. “If I’m really doing this, I’m going to need you to make sure I go through with it. Okay? Don’t let me talk myself out of it. Make sure I leave with a new sofa picked out.”</p>
<p>“Hey, I’m going to be there every step of the way.”</p>
<p>Penelope nodded, trying to feel comforted by his support.</p>
<p>“I mean literally, Pen. I’m looking up stores right now, and we’re going together. After all, I’ll be using your new sofa as much as you do.”</p>
<p>“No, you won’t.”</p>
<p>He ignored that. “Give me some time to read up, and we will head into a furniture store ready to find you the perfect couch. What good is having a best friend if you can’t take him couch shopping, anyway? ”</p>
<p><em>Did she have another choice?  </em>“All right, Schneider, you win. I could go on my lunch break tomorrow if that works for you.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine by me. My schedule is wide open. After all, it’s not like I have a job or anything. I’ll just be at home, setting a stack of twenties on fire whenever I get bored.”</p>
<p>“Schneider...”</p>
<p>“No, no,” he waved away her guilty expression. “I know what you really think of me, now. The truth may be ugly, but at least it’s honest.”</p>
<p>“That’s not what I think of you, Schneider.”</p>
<p>He shrugged, but she knew the hurt under the sarcasm was real. Sarcasm was one of Schneider’s tells--he didn’t tend to slip into it unless he was defensive or hurting. </p>
<p>Or both. </p>
<p>“Hey, it isn’t. I swear.”</p>
<p>She huffed out a breath and stepped closer to him, grabbing both of his hands. “I think you’re amazing, okay? You may be obscenely rich, but you do good things with your money.”</p>
<p>“Well, dumb things too,” she added. “But also good things. I was just freaking out. I was trying to get you to shut up, and when it didn’t work...I got mean. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing dumb about my bidet,” Schneider said.</p>
<p>“What is with you and that French toilet? Speaking of that, what happened to your Japanese toilet? Why do you need international toilets anyway?”</p>
<p>“American toilets are antiquated, Penelope! They’re stuck in the dark ages. Both individual health and lifetime maintenance costs are improved by a modern approach.”</p>
<p>“See, I think that’s weird,” she told him. “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. And you know that already.”</p>
<p><em>Schneider would forgive her for being mean, </em>Penelope thought, watching his face as she waited. <em>He was still Schneider. </em></p>
<p>But it hadn’t been that long since his relapse, and she needed to remember how recently he had picked himself back up. She needed to be more careful with his feelings. </p>
<p>“You really think I’m amazing?”</p>
<p>Schneider from three years ago would have aimed the question at her with a grin, probably a flirtatious one. Now he was genuinely asking. His voice was small. </p>
<p>She lifted their joined hands and squeezed. “I do. And I completely trust you to help me find a new couch. Even though I’m scared.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Schneider smiled. “Cool. I can pick you up on your lunch hour then.”</p>
<p>Penelope nodded. “I’ll bring a change of clothes to work. It’s going to be uncomfortable enough, going to stare at overpriced furniture. I’m not doing that in my scrubs.”</p>
<p>“We’re gonna do much more than just stare,” he said. “We are going to touch, we are going to peruse...we might even go nuts and sit down!” Schneider gripped her hands for one last firm moment before he let go. “But it’s going to be okay, Pen. I promise.”</p>
<p>“If you say so.”</p>
<p>She looked over at the couch that had gotten her family--Schneider included--through so many moments, good and bad, and sighed. “I guess it’s time for this to go out to the curb.”</p>
<p>“You think somebody else is going to want it?”</p>
<p>“For parts, maybe. Could you take it downstairs?”</p>
<p>Schneider’s brow was furrowed, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure. No problem.” </p>
<p>“Thanks.” </p>
<p>Penelope took a seat at her kitchen table, stared resolutely away from the living room, and imagined picking out a new couch.</p>
<p>She pretended she couldn’t feel a wave of anxiety coming on in response.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title borrowed from "Everybody Lost Somebody" by Bleachers.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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